


the devil's alphabet

by bigdamnher0



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, But The Universe Has Other Plans, M/M, Magical Accidents, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamory, Renhyuck Just Want to Live With Their Mortal BF Mark Lee, Self-Sacrifice, hexes, modern witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigdamnher0/pseuds/bigdamnher0
Summary: (Fullsun, his warlock name. Sun-browned, barefoot, face craned to the sky.Fullsun—the audacity to challenge what can scorch your body to dust.)“Fullsun,” Renjun deadpanned, “more likefull of shit."
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	the devil's alphabet

**abjuration** , _n_. 

There were many good things about excommunication, contrary to witch belief. Donghyuck could spend a whole day counting them off his fingers: the luxury of time. Evenings spent actually falling asleep, instead of tossing fitfully in bed with a dagger tucked in his sleeve, his other hand burrowed beneath his pillow to clutch at the black tourmaline he kept for protection. Netflix, for one. Panda Express. Oh yeah. Mortals did invent some delightful things to pass the time.

“Do you ever miss it?” Mark asked idly, tracing the line of delicate veins twining up the inside of Donghyuck’s wrist, where his magic used to be. (How strange; used to be.) These days Mark touched him like he was still made of phoenix-fire: a nudge, barely-there. A fleeting look. Lips grazing, never taking. This was syntax _Fullsun_ wouldn’t have understood, back in the Academy. This softness—he just wasn’t capable of it. 

(In the language of engineered monsters, there was no such thing as permission, after all. You only took. You burned down the whole forest for one fruit. And Donghyuck was very good at that; the Academy guaranteed it.)

“Do you ever, like—“ Mark pursed his mouth, a habit, thumbing at Donghyuck’s rabbiting pulse as he cradled his hand on his lap, “you know. Regret it?”

Framed by Mark’s palms, Donghyuck’s hand looked dwarfed in size. Vulnerability was an odd thing—not bad, just odd. Like an itch he thought of scratching til it bled, but most days it made itself felt in kindness: soft, like a choppy laugh against his neck. A mortal boy’s hand to hold.

“Not really,” Donghyuck answered, meeting Mark’s gaze with a grin—and was surprised to hear it was the truth.

**brevity** , _n_.

(When he was born, in the afternoon when the sun was at its peak, Donghyuck's mother said that he’d wailed and wailed, and it was only when he’d opened his myopic newborn eyes to sun, like it was calling him, that he calmed down. They were afraid it would blind him, but he only kicked and cried when they brought him in the shade of their house; only the sight of the sun appeased him, nothing else. His mother buried her face in her hands and wept. _Not a witch. Not my baby._ She knew she’d lost him already.

_Fullsun_ , his warlock name. Sun-browned, barefoot, face craned to the sky. _Fullsun_ —the audacity to challenge what can scorch your body to dust.)

“Fullsun,” Renjun deadpanned, “more like _full of shit_.”

**caveat** , _adj_.

“If you touch a hair on Mark Lee’s head—if you so much as look in his direction—there won’t be anything left of you or your family.” Donghyuck smiled cloyingly. “Oh, and that runt? Renjun? I’d worry about myself if I were you. He has a habit of proving assholes wrong.”

The man—and customer, unfortunately—looked undeterred, and if there was one thing Donghyuck didn’t like about excommunication, it was this. Most fellow exiles who knew of his existence tended to steer clear of his modest flower-shop, wary of the crawling nightshades and the cheery sunflowers that pressed their faces against the glass. But like anything else, there were exceptions.

(Donghyuck lied; sometimes he did miss his magic. This was one of those times.)

“You’re not the same hotshot you were back then,” the man sneered down at him. Fucker tracked mud all over his floor too, and now Donghyuck was really gonna let him have it, magic or not. “Or did you forget? There’s nothing you can do that can hurt me, sunshine.”

Donghyuck allowed his face to break open as he laughed, enough so he looked a little manic, just the right kind of unhinged. “I don’t know, I have a couple of ideas, _sunshine_ ,” he drawled. “I assure you, I don’t need magic to fuck your face up. I suggest you back the fuck off, no? Anyway, it was a pleasure doing business with you!” He handed the bouquet over—a simple arrangement of pink roses and white alstroemerias—and bowed. “Oh, and try to take care of the pink ones, okay? Give them plenty of water, sing to them every morning, et cetera, et cetera. Keep them away from your bed—they get a little antsy without flesh. Just kidding! _Unless_ —”

**doctrine** , _n_.

There were a few things Mark Lee believed to be true: 

1\. God’s goodness was inherent, and it was for everybody. Unconditionally.

2\. Renjun took up ballet because the pain was grounding, beating his awkward limbs into something musical; because the sentiment was _nice_ , that he could be more than the blood he was born with, that this was all his doing—not Donghyuck, even if he did owe him everything. That he could have a part of his life that was all his, all alone.

3\. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude that wherever realm Renjun and Donghyuck came from, it couldn’t have been any better than this. What fools would trade magic to stay in this dead-end purgatory? Only desperate ones, for sure.

4\. No one could make a meaner puffy egg omelette than Lee Donghyuck.

5\. Renjun and Donghyuck loved each other in a way that required no words, no proof or fanfare; how it was older than the tide, or magic itself, and by extension, it was reasonable to conclude that;

6\. Mark’s own existence in this equation was—unfortunately for him—dispensable.

**epiphany** , _n_. 

The Academy in the summer smelled like something congealing, placid pond-water collecting cold, dead things that no one missed. That day, Renjun’s eyes met his across the room as if to say, _don’t do this_ , as his professor said, _please demonstrate_ , and so Donghyuck did, because if anything else Lee Donghyuck was a mouthpiece of good or so they told him, that was why he was gifted so much power, it was his birthright, Donghyuck and no one else; and his classmates cheered his name, _Fullsun_ , again and again, as his victim twisted into shapes by his feet with a flick of his wrist, and as Renjun’s back receded from view it was that smell—that same terrible, clogged odor that hit him—trapped and flailing, like a memory of something he’d always known to be true, and that was when Donghyuck knew: _nothing can grow here._

**fabulate** , _v_.

“You’re up.” Mark frowned, turning to see Renjun standing outside the bathroom. “You should be resting.”

“I have.” Renjun brushed him off. Something caught his eye, and he tilted his head. “Hyung, what’s—“

“I get a lot of nosebleeds in the summer,” Mark explained, leaning against the wall so Renjun couldn’t see the dark wad of tissue paper at the bottom of the trash bin. Mark touched his own neck. “It gets, like, really bad. You know, thanks to the heat and all. You should get back to—“

Renjun interrupted. “Well, you’re bleeding a lot—“ 

Mark stepped out the bathroom and allowed the door to swing shut behind him. Before Renjun could turn to peek, Mark reached for his shoulder, keeping him put; this close, Renjun could see the strange, sallow tint in Mark’s cheeks, and the questions he’d been harboring since the night before threatened to spill; _I know you’re lying to me_ , Renjun thought miserably. He wanted to ask where Mark disappeared to each night, arriving home at odd hours, leaving a strange magnetism in the air where he stopped to hover by Renjun’s bed; just watching, never speaking. 

“Mark?” Renjun tried. Covered Mark’s hand with his. _Tell me what’s wrong._

The hand perched on Renjun’s shoulder felt weightless, like it was about to fly away.

“Like I said,” Mark said, already elsewhere. “It gets really bad in the summer.”

**genesis** , _n_.

In the beginning, there was the portal. Freedom was a remote island with palm trees and clear water and _no Academy_ , and they would’ve reached it had Renjun not panicked and pushed Donghyuck out of concentration like a loose thread pulled by too antsy fingers, sending them stumbling through the veil, much too early.

This realm was green, all country fields and a sticky-summer breeze that clung to Donghyuck’s sleeves, cicadas louder than the roar of his heart. In the beginning, it was an accident. It started like this:

There was a mortal boy lying in a heap in the middle of a field. Several jeering teenagers stood in a circle around him; a familiar scene. 

For one electric moment, the boy’s eyes lit up, passing by where both Donghyuck and Renjun stood, his gaze piercing through the veil—only to fall shut when the blonde kid beside him sent a wrenching kick through his ribs.

“Ouch.” Donghyuck winced. He turned to go. “C’mon, we gotta—”

Renjun didn’t budge.

“Wait,” he said. Donghyuck sighed. Turned to him and bit his lip; Renjun had that look to him, that lick of recklessness that he recognized in himself, and Donghyuck knew right and there that he had lost this fight, way before he had ever begun to realize

_In the beginning, there was a boy—_

“Hey, little lion man. You look like you could use a hand there,” Donghyuck drawled. “Want us to get rid of them for you?”

Mark’s eyes look crazed. Nobody else could see the two strangely-robed men watching them; nobody but him. So he really _had_ lost it. “Why do you have to ask?” He coughed pitifully. 

“Witch law,” Donghyuck sighed. “Can’t meddle with regular human business.”

“You’re… a witch?”

“And you’re not very bright, are you?” Renjun frowned. “You’re about to get cobbled into the pavement, and you’re still talking to us? You want our help or not?”

Mark coughed again, rolling into his back to look at the sky. “You’re—not real.”

“Mm, maybe. _That_ looks pretty real though.” Renjun pointed at the bruise under his right eye, splintering the skin. His voice was steady, but Donghyuck could sense the prey’s madness brewing beneath his skin; he had witnessed this himself, after all. “I can make that go away. I can make them hurt, just a little bit, so they can leave you alone. 

“Forever,” Donghyuck added.

“Hyuck—“

Donghyuck ignored him, picking up a stone. “So… how about it?”

The teenagers erupted into laughter; someone had discovered Mark’s journal, which had a picture of his parents pasted in the back.

Something passed very briefly across Mark’s face—Donghyuck thought, perhaps he was praying, wasn’t that what mortals did when they were pushed to the brink?—but then Mark was turning to them, his mouth a bloodied grin. “Fine,” he said, a different boy now, eyes like a cornered Renjun Huang, once upon a time, “show me a magic trick?”

**harrowing** , _n_. 

If anything, Donghyuck did it because that’s just what happened to kids who went out of alignment with their gift; this was how the Academy operated, and Donghyuck, as prefect, followed like a sunflower to the sun. 

_Renjun Huang, half-veela, failing everything but Divination_. Everyone knew about Renjun; those who underestimated the slight boy at first glance came scurrying back at the mean, scorpion’s tail he had for a tongue. Renjun, who stuck pastel stickers on his notebooks. Renjun, the only Veela who refused to Compel. Donghyuck could vaguely remember seeing his gaunt face before, and _After_ he saw it every night, where it chased him all the way into his dreams. 

After, Renjun never looked at him with hate. Nothing cruel escaped the thoughtful line of his mouth. His eyes remained clear, boring into his, and it didn’t matter if each day Renjun Huang continued to stride into class with scorch marks on his cheeks or a limp or a silent hex that tied his tongue into knots because Renjun Huang was unbreakable, and most of all, _incorruptible_ , and Donghyuck was beginning to realize this wasn’t Renjun’s harrowing, but _his_.

**icarian** , _adj_.

Mark Lee was many things—brash, unfazed, _mortal_ —but he wasn’t a fool. Some things weren’t meant for him, he knew. _You can’t follow me everywhere_ , Donghyuck said. _Stop trying to be like us._ That was Renjun, always cutting straight to the cruel heart of it. It was a truth he despised, but he accepted it. Between the three of them, he was the realist, after all. He didn’t need to be told. 

(No matter how much you moved the elements around, the equation remained the same. Until it wasn’t.)

The instructions in the spell bottle were straightforward enough: some bone, some hair. Throw in an incantation or two. A little moonlight. Maybe swallow a black river-stone at the bottom of a leyline. 

A ludicrous spell for a ludicrous man. _Try me_ , Mark thought. _No one tells me what I can’t do._

Funny, how much the handwriting reminded him of Donghyuck’s neat scrawl; he would’ve showed him, had it been any other occasion. 

All in all, it was nothing but a small sacrifice to protect the only two things worth living for. A chance for that, foolish mortal boy like him—Mark would give anything.

Mark would fly straight into the sun.

**juvenile** , _adj_. 

Mark didn’t mean to stumble into the kitchen just when Donghyuck and Renjun were lip-locked and making funny noises against the cupboard. He didn’t mean to dodge their gazes over dinner, cooping himself up in his room to “write.” He didn’t mean to completely shut them out out for days after either, leaving soccer practice last only to crawl straight to his room, stuffing himself with cheap, greasy take-out diner food and drowning his sorrows to Frank Ocean—because his best friends had found love, and without him it seemed. 

Ah, well. Mark had always sensed that _something_ between them. Something old and straining and finally set free. It was _right_. Good people deserved other good people. 

Coming home, Mark felt their eyes bore into his back as he passed their shared room. Tiptoeing past the plate of cold spaghetti they left for him on the table, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. It always felt primal, electric, to be watched by two once-powerful witches.

When he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t alone.

“Don’t shout,” Renjun said, “you’ll wake him.” 

_Him_ was Donghyuck, knees tucked under him while he snored by the foot of Mark’s bed. There was a wet patch under his cheek, where he drooled into the whole night.

“What the f—“

“We broke in because you were being stupid,” Renjun whispered, and as full consciousness seeped in so did the awareness that Renjun was much _too_ _close_. Renjun’s lashes were dark, and the air between them grew warm with their breaths. He was in those loose, dark practice clothes that swallowed his frame. “I hate stupid boys,” he was saying. “You’re not one of them are you, Mark Lee?”

“I’m—I’m not…” Mark stuttered. It was too early for this.

“You already know, don’t you? We don’t like mortals. There’s a reason why we chose you, and not anyone else.”

“Me?”

“Think.” Renjun was smiling now, the kind of smile that spread his face into something pristine; Mark wanted to capture it and tape it in his journal forever. “Do you think I’d crawl into any boy’s bed like this?

“I—“ Mark’s eyes widened. The inside of his mouth felt dry. “I hope not.

Renjun chuckled. Donghyuck snored. “I was going to wait until morning to tell you, but Donghyuck’s nocturnal and he won’t be up til the afternoon. Tell you a secret?” Renjun said. “I was really cut up over you.”

Mark curled closer, their knees touching over the duvet. He couldn’t imagine it: quiet, confident Renjun. “What?” he said intelligently.

“Couldn’t get you to look at me long enough,” Renjun explained. “You had a very…. hmm. A very short attention span. Only ever had time for loud, sparkly boys. Like our Donghyuck over here.”

“I’m looking at you now though,” Mark said, starting to understand. Renjun smiled. Their fingers met, and that wretched, terrible part of his brain began to shrink into something feeble. When Mark sought his mouth, Renjun covered his lips with his palm.

“We made a bet,” Renjun sighed. “On who gets to kiss you first. I lost.”

“Think,” Mark said, after a moment; there were layers of implications to process in that sentence, which he would deal with later, when his brain returned. “If it were Donghyuck, what would he do?

So—of course—Renjun kissed him.

**kismet** , _n_.

They didn’t get any warning other than this: after the final curtain call, the applause, the joy stoked like a high fire in Renjun’s cheeks, they stole Renjun into his private dressing room and showered him with kisses, getting glitter all over their hair. Mark caught Renjun’s laughter in his own lungs and spun him around, chanting, _that’s our boy!_ Renjun shrieking with delight, and then Renjun was doubling over—something black and sinister spidering up his neck. When Mark caught him—because his legs had gone limp— Renjun’s eyes had turned white.

“Move, Mark, get out the way!” Donghyuck boomed, much louder than he meant—he hated the way Mark flinched, but it was too late.

“Sorry, I—” Mark sidestepped, then froze where he stood. “What’s happening?”

Donghyuck bent down and lifted Renjun’s shirt up, tracing the first few lines of a rune on his ribcage before he realized what he was doing. 

“What’s happening?” Mark repeated, sounding small. He was clutching Renjun’s ballet shoe to his chest. “Hyuckie? Talk to me, please.”

_Blood hex_ , Donghyuck wanted to say. _Someone here wants me gone, but I never expected them to drag you into this too._ He wanted to tell Mark this and many other truths— _I’m a bad person, Mark; do you still want me?_ —but what good would that do? The target on Mark’s back was a hundred mile-radius wide, just by virtue of knowing Donghyuck. Who cast the hex? _Think_. The man from the party. That odd customer. Too many faces he’d harrowed. Donghyuck was stupid for believing he could ever start anew. Even here, his shadow had stretched all the way to find him.

_There’s a price for your kind of power_ , someone said, and Donghyuck couldn’t remember who told him this. He scooped Renjun into his arms and laid him horizontally on the couch, smoothing his hair back from his cold forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck managed, “I’m so—fuck—I’m so sorry—”over and over, into Renjun’s chest, into his own trembling hands, and as the words lost meaning he didn’t know who he was saying sorry to anymore. Sorry, because he had no magic. Sorry, because he couldn’t fix this, because after everything, if he closed his eyes they were still behind the Academy gates.

“Hyuck,” came Mark’s voice. “Where are you going?”

Before he realized it, Donghyuck was standing outside the auditorium. The night was young, dark, and uninviting. Mark was still clutching onto Renjun’s shoe.

“Don’t follow me,” Donghyuck said, and disappeared into the night.

**lust** , _n_.

Donghyuck had everything, and he didn’t want any of it. He wanted more from this purgatory, insatiable for more than all the gold and prestige the Academy could ever offer—everything would make sense beyond these gates, he was sure of it, and was that really so bad? To own a life you wanted? To finally find the permission to exist?

**mundane** , _n_.

_Odd_ was the word. _Out of place_ , beautifully so. Donghyuck and Renjun—self-exiled from the Academy, trading magic for pizza nights. Even after they’d lost their powers, Donghyuck could still trace the faint vein of it—it was everywhere, just out of reach—lingering just beneath the skin of Mark’s town, even if the rest of the world moved in blissful ignorance.

Once, Donghyuck caught himself pulling open a portal to get to the grocery store. The frozen look on his face when he realized it still made Renjun lose it each time he remembered. 

And so, the next logical step: “Bike?” Renjun tilted his head.

Donghyuck swore he’d learn to ride one, if only to impress Mark with it; they took (stole) Mark’s bike after the poor owner crashed on the couch after soccer practice, sapped of all energy. And because Dongyuck still had a death wish, and Renjun, being an enabler by default, they ended up at outside the street 1 AM, in their pajamas, no less.

“How did humans survive out here,“ Donghyuck whined as Renjun steadied his grip from behind; their helmets bonked as Renjun urged them on faster, so Donghyuck released the brakes and let gravity pull them through— _might as well_ , Donghyuck thought, feeling full on helium and the sound of Renjun’s bubbling laughter—if there was a cat napping at the bottom of the slope, he wouldn’t have time to brake and that would be it, done, no Renjun and Donghyuck, no spell to cushion their fall, and somehow that was _okay_ —the trees blurred around them, the cold wind nipping at their skin, _I love you, Renjun-ah!_ , their giddy bodies responding in a way no spell could replicate—

Feeling young, feeling impossible— _magic_

**nothing** , _n_.

Donghyuck reached him first. “Hyung, did he touch you?” he spat. Mark had never heard such vitriol in Donghyuck’s voice. 

“What? No, he—“

“Like this?” Donghyuck touched his cheek, and some of Mark’s acquaintances who stood nearby with their drinks averted their eyes. “Or this?” Donghyuck touched Mark’s hair, nails scraping the back of his nape. Mark shivered. Donghyuck’s voice was colder than his touch. “It’s important. If he has even a hair, he could make—“

“Hey, I’m okay.” Mark brushed Donghyuck’s hand away. “He didn’t do anything. We just—talked. And not even a lot, like. He asked me how I was, that sort of thing.”

The ice in Donghyuck’s gaze didn’t thaw; since Renjun got hexed, there was little he found to smile about. 

Mark sighed. “Hyuck—“

“Sorry, I—“ Donghyuck looked away. “I’m just. Paranoid, I guess. You know there’s a nutcase going around? Some kid snuck a box of bad spells from my old school—real bad, like some real illegal stuff, and _I_ should know, I made most of em—and now there’s a familiar taking the form of a wild lion on the loose—“

Mark laughed, too loud. “Hyuck, I know things are real ridiculous right now, but I promise. I’m okay. _You_ don’t look it, though.” 

Donghyuck made a noncommittal sound as Mark thumbed his cheek. “This party sucks.”

“No fucking shit.” Mark laughed, hand sliding down Donghyuck’s cheek to grab his hand. “Let’s scram.”

“Jesus,” Donghyuck whined as they made their way across the hallway. “your hand is _freezing_ , hyung.”

**omen,** _n_.

Donghyuck saw the blood warning on the mirror, “HE S COMING” and thought, _fuck, thank you Jeno_. He’d get him out of that hellhole too one of these days. The kitchen window shattered, and when Donghyuck sprinted into the room, Kun was pulling out of his crow transformation, his green eyes unsettling and familiar.

Prefect Kun. Once, the both of them held the very same prestige. 

“What would the Lees think, if they saw their dear _Fullsun_ now?” Kun wondered out loud. “What ever happened to their legacy?"

“What would Ten-hyung think, if he found out you’re still stuck at your 5-second transfiguration mark? Slacking off isn’t cute in a prefect, you know.”

Surprise—a smile dimpled his face. “I missed you, shortcake,” Kun said. “The Academy hasn’t been as much fun since you’ve been gone.” He walked towards the their dining table, studying the cereal box on top that Mark bought this morning. “From what I hear, you’ve kept up your reputation as a menace in this town. Weren’t very good at making friends, were you?”

“Relax,” Donghyuck said. “If you can believe it, I’m not interested in making a fuss around here. I’m more than happy with my cute plants. As long as they don’t touch what’s mine, I keep to myself.”

Kun put the cereal box down. He tilted his head. “Who says it’s them I’m worried about?” 

**omen, part 2** , _n_.

_You’ve stolen something from me, Mark Lee_ , the voice said. _Don’t you know what happens to boys who steal?_

In the distance someone was drowning.

He woke up, shivering. Something trickled down his chin. He wiped it and put it up to the light; his fingers came away _black_.

**palisade** , _n_.

“No one touches my coven,” Donghyuck said, with such sudden intensity Renjun laughed. 

“ _Coven_? And of what—two neutered witches and a _human_?”

“Shut up, you’ll wake the human.”

“The human is already awake,” Mark said, sitting up to give him the stink-eye, his hair sticking up in all directions. Donghyuck had to stop himself from cooing. “Can you stop calling me that? Fuck—ow.” He stopped moving. “Did you carve your name into my back or what?”

Donghyuck approached the bed and dropped into Mark’s side. “Hurts?” he asked, and as Renjun watched him touch the protective rune that peeked out Mark’s shirt, Renjun remembered— _Fullsun was the best spellcaster of his time_ —and understood the fierce protectiveness that Donghyuck felt. Right in this moment, Donghyuck was the most brilliant and most beautiful that he had ever been, even as he slowly seeped out of magic forever. Renjun looked at his own hands, understanding the loss; he will never read the dregs of tea leaves again. This, too, was okay.

_And what for?_ the voice in his head demanded. _There is nothing here that you can keep for long._

Mark bowed his head, sheepish at the sudden attention. He brushed Donghyuck’s curious hands away and pulled his shirt down. “You said you had magic for one last spell,” he began. “Why this? Why—why me?”

“Because you’re our person,” Donghyuck said, beating Renjun to it. Donghyuck held his hand out, and Renjun reached for him, their fingers entangling. “ _Ours_. And we’re yours. Simple enough, I hope, Marcus Lee?

_For this_ , Renjun thought. _As long as I have this, it’s enough._

**quandary** , _n_.

“I don’t know how to make a protection charm, but I do know how to to knit, so—“

Donghyuck held the anklet loosely, tracing the thread and chasing its tails. There were three colors: blue, red, and yellow, knotted together and held by a simple silver buckle.

Mark was blushing to his ears. Donghyuck wanted to say, _this will not save me—_ how, when the time came, he himself would not have the power to protect the three of them, that charms were only effective as the rituals that transmuted sacrifice into power, that these mere strings of yarn echoed nothing more than the empty promise of protection—

“We’ll wear it forever,” Renjun said fiercely, “won’t we, Donghyuck?” and he sent him a smile so sharp Donghyuck could cut himself on it, so he smiled and returned Mark’s warm smile.

It was enough. It had to be. 

**ruination** , _v_.

“I love you,” Donghyuck said, absolutely miserable with it. Like someone had to wrestle it out of his arms. “Loved you since I saw your stupid face in the soccer field. You were getting beat up by a couple of jocks, and you were wearing that stupid purity ring, like the good Christian boy you are—”

“Oh god, please shut up.”

“—I just knew I had to ruin you,” Donghyuck continued. “I love you, Mark Lee.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t wear it out.”

“I think, right now, what I really wanted to hear was a sweet confession for me—”

Mark pressed his lips against Donghyuck’s, soft and firm, scraping his nails into his nape the way Donghyuck liked. He licked into the seam of his mouth, and Donghyuck shuddered to his toes.

“Can’t believe I was your first kiss,” Donghyuck murmured as they pulled away, like the devil he was. “Well. Second. Sweet little Mark Lee. We're so lucky.

“Gross,” Mark said, but kissed him again.

**secret** , _n_.

Donghyuck didn’t remember this man, so he asked, “How did I fuck up this time?”

It was clear he had harrowed him, if the resulting manic laugh was any indication, and that this was the wrong question to ask. Donghyuck recognized the trap for what it was easily. The trace of the man’s magic was a toxic fume, loud and pulsing with _wrong_ , and Donghyuck had followed it like a madman gone with revenge.

It was clear the man was here for the same thing too

Right next to them, the river gurgled feebly, a powerful leyline disguised beneath. Donghyuck felt it straining; the man was leeching off of it, barren as he was. 

In another life, maybe, their positions would’ve been reversed; Lee Donghyuck stealing back power into his veins for a drop of what he’d lost, letting the world burn behind him. 

“I can’t erase what I’ve done,” Donghyuck said, surprised to hear his own voice quake. “And I can’t return what you’ve lost. Nothing can. Trust me; I’ve tried. ” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

The man laughed. It pulled his face into something terrible. “The great Fullsun, apologizing? Don’t worry, I’m not here for that.” His finger twitched, and the river sank halfway into bedrock, frozen in time. “When you broke the rules to help that _mortal_ , they took your magic and set you free. You’re still walking around, unscathed. But not me. Not me—“ he pulled up his shirt to reveal a stretch of fire-scarred skin, and Donghyuck’s heart fell into into a trench. “You made sure of that, didn’t you? You made sure I _learned,_ just like they asked you to. Even now, you’re still just a mutt of the Academy.”

“It’s you,” Donghyuck whispered.

“ _Now_ , he remembers!” Jinyoung barked, eyes crazed. “I was debating on doing this quickly, but now I want to savor it. Do you know how it feels, to burn? No? Well, it’s slow, you see. Very slow. When you think you can’t take anymore, it gets worse. Like this—“

A choking force cut off his breathing, and Donghyuck clawed at his neck. His feet lifted off the ground. He could feel the leyline twisting, thrashing at this aberration. The black of the man’s eyes overtook his corneas, and something dark began to trickle down his nose.

“Fucking s—pid,” Donghyuck choked. “You’ll d—too.”

“As long as you come with,” he said. His left hand began to glow, sun-bright. “That’s good enough for me.”

“No, just you,” came voice that made Donghyuck freeze. There was a rumbling, like something deep from a beast’s belly, and then a lion bounded into his periphery, sinking its teeth deep into man’s shoulder. Donghyuck crumpled back to earth and gasped.

“Hello,” Mark said, a trail of black blood trickling down his nose to stain his lip. “Sorry I’m late.”

**trade-off,** _n._

Renjun felt the imbalance—like a cold hand plunging into his gut—and that’s how he woke, eyes flying open as he scrambled to find his shoes. 

Something was _dying_ out there; it was gasping out his name.

So Renjun ran, down the underbrush, blurring past the abandoned gas station on Mark's bike. Around the corner, straight through the meadow that hid a secret river. The feeling of wrongness was doubling in the air, and that’s how he found Mark, crumpled over his knees, and—was that a _lion_? The beast was straight of a daydream, its stripes shimmering like dust as it licked Mark's hands that were curled into fists as the boy hurled something terrible into the grass.

A few feet away, a man he recognized was tied to a tree, unconscious. Where—?

“Renjun-ah—“ Donghyuck’s voice pulled him back. “It’s all my fault. I told you—“

“Stop talking,” Renjun said, but kept his voice gentle. “Let’s—“

Mark retched again. Renjun rushed to his side. By Mark’s knees, there it was—a black river-stone, the pull of it magnetic. The air around them pulsed like it had swallowed lightning.

Instinctively, he knew what it was. Without wasting a breath, Renjun grabbed it and chucked it back into the river, which leaped up as if to catch it, pulling it back where it belonged. The water rose, trickling back between the pebbles. The lion made a soft sound, as if to say “ _oh_ ”—and then, dissolved into nothing.

“Mark?” Renjun called. Mark had quieted where he lay, cheek cushioned on the grass, like the first time they had found him. Quickly, Renjun knelt and rolled him onto his back. His chest was still. “Mark? _Mark?_ Hyuck, what’s—“

“S’my fault,” Donghyuck was muttering, gripping the edge of his own shirt.

“What do you _mean_?” Renjun said, unable to hide the welling anxiety in his voice. “What—“

“My spell. My fault. I don’t—I don’t know how he found it, but that’s my spell—I made it—it’s all my fault,” Donghyuck continued to babble as he sunk to his knees, cheeks wet, “I _told_ him—I told him, you can’t force magic, but he—“

Renjun understood, with a sinking finality. The river gurgled, alive and well—the power Mark had borrowed finally returned. 

“We’ll fix it,” Renjun said resolutely. "We always do, don't we?"

Donghyuck shook his head. His voice was terrible. “Not this.”

**unbridled** , _adj_.

Renjun swore he’d never use his powers again, but now he let himself beg: now, 11 years later, he let the Veela inside him unfurl, baying its teeth—he’d sealed this part of himself away for far too long, away from prying eyes, and now it was scraping out of him, wild and vicious and vengeful in its solitude. It was his Veela that grabbed Mark’s pale face, digging his thumb into his jaw

“Open your eyes, Markie,” he commanded. The power surged from his belly, not so much magic as his own birthright rising to the surface and boiling over. “Please, please, baby, _breathe_ —breathe for me—“ and as the Compelling spell took hold of Mark’s body, his mortal lungs stuttered in his chest and struggled to _obey._ Tears filled Renjun’s eyes, which had turned into red slits; the sight would give him endless nightmares for years to come

“Are you listening to me?” Renjun choked out, as Donghyuck watched, slack-jawed, “I am commanding you to _live_ , or so help me _god_ —“

**verbatim** , _n._

_Dear Renjunnie,_

_Remember when we were young, and they asked me to harrow you? It would’ve been so easy, too. Skinny little Renjun. You still had that cute tooth, too. Guess we both had things we weren’t supposed to have._

_They wanted me to hurt you, just enough that you would get out of it and become a productive member of society, or whatever. Funny how that never happens. I remember you in the water. You had no fear. Are you ever scared, Renjun Huang? What makes you scared?_

_You know what I’m most scared about?_

_Just kidding. That’s for me to know, and for you to find out. I think you already know though. You were always the smarter one._

_Mark says writing my feelings out will help with my anger issues, and I think it’s working. I’m not much of a writer, but it’s cool because I can call you things I’ll never be able to call you in real life. Like honey, darling, sweetheart. Haha, can you imagine me calling you that? Me neither._

_Kinda like the ring of sweetheart, though. Sweetheart! Renjunnie sweetheart! You know when you say a word again and again, and it loses all meaning? Yeah. Sounds like a fruit now._

_Do you still hate me?_

**valentine** , _n_. 

“Go and give this to the boyfriend, okay?” Donghyuck said, handing Mark a bouquet.

Mark stared at the arrangement: a simple red rose on a bed of baby’s breath. Classic.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Give it to _Renjun_ , okay?

“Uh, sure,” Mark said. “And me?” 

Donghyuck shrugged, the beginnings of a grin slanting his mouth. “Forgot.”

Mark squawked, then turned around hastily in case something terribly vulnerable made itself known in his face. Before he could leave the shop, Donghyuck coughed, and a daffodil sprouted in Mark’s shirt pocket.

“I’m _kidding_. Happy Valentines’ day, baby. I know you hate flowers.”

“You’re the worst.” Mark’s cheeks dimpled, a lovely flush there making its way. He cradled the flower to his chest. “Thanks, Hyuckie.”

(When he got home, he was horrified to find Donghyuck’s flower had shrivelled and died. 

A week later, every living plant he’d touched had turned to black.)

**wreckage** , _n_.

“You wanna know why I did what I did?” Renjun spat. “Because you’re _ours_. And I know—it’s a shitty explanation, but that’s it. Ours, Lee Donghyuck.” Renjun grabbed Donghyuck’s wrist and raised it, where the buckle on the bracelet Mark made them caught light. “And we’re _yours_. Stop pretending like you don’t die a little bit inside too when you think about a time when you wake up and not have this.”

“What’s “ _this_ ”?” Haechan said numbly. His heart was going to burst.

“ _This_ ,” Renjun gestured angrily. Beside them, snoring on Donghyuck’s lap, was Mark—alive, his face coloring again.

“This,” Donghyuck said, “is a trainwreck.”

Renjun smirked. “Never said it wasn’t.”

**x,** _n_

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” Renjun said, as soon as he shut the door behind them

“Which one?” Mark said innocently, and Donghyuck suppressed a giggle.

Renjun slapped them both on the shoulder.

“Just,” Renjun sighed. Weary and more fearful than he had ever been. “Promise me.

Donghyuck pulled him in by the nape, feeling his bird-heart gallop under his shirt. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck said.

“ _Say_ it,” Renjun pressed, his bottom lip trembling. “Say you won’t do that shit again.”

“Cross my heart,” Mark whispered into the space between them.

**youth** , _n_.

If anyone asked him why, he’d say it was because he _could_ —because he was _young,_ because he was _Fullsun_ , most of all, the only witch who could pull new spells out of thin the air from sheer boredom—spells that could crack the earth and tilt the delicate balance of things. “You think you’re invincible, don’t you?” Renjun asked, next to him on the couch. _Always_ , Donghyuck thought, bouncing a lightning spell across his fingertips. _It’s lonely._

Donghyuck passed his hand over Renjun’s face; the boy didn’t flinch, even as the hair on his skin broke into gooseflesh. He wore this very same expression last week—his eyes too knowing for his face—when Donghyuck told him his new spell. _Fake magic, for humans_ , he winked. _An equal exchange_. 

“Well, you’re more like us that you realize, you know?” Renjun added brusquely, as he pushed himself off Donghyuck’s couch. 

“If it makes you sleep better," Donghyuck called out. He closed his fist, and the air fizzled out.

In the next moment Renjun was standing before him, considering. 

Donghyuck stuttered, “What—“

Renjun kissed him then; it was a kiss to end all kisses. It was all-consuming. When Renjun pulled away, Donghyuck’s lips tingled, electric to his toes. 

“See?” Renjun grinned, pinching his cheek. “You blush just like the rest of us.”

**zeroth** , _n_.

“I just want to be good. That’s all,” Donghyuck said, unable to hold the tears in any longer.

Renjun dropped the bike, which he had tried to prop against his hip; they’d figure out the logistics of going home with an unconscious Mark Lee later. 

“You already are,” Renjun promised, reaching for his hand.

Donghyuck didn’t move; his eyes were guarding Mark’s frame, which lay prone against the tree. “How do you know?”

“Your magic saved him, you know?” Renjun said. “Not me. _Your_ magic. _Your_ rune, on Mark's skin. If anyone else had done it, Mark would be dead right now.”

Donghyuck bit his lip. Renjun crossed the distance between them and held Donghyuck's wrist.

“If you don't believe me now, at least stay. Just stay, and then we’ll find out together, okay? We’ll find somewhere else to live, if that’s what it takes. A different town. But we’ll do it together.” 

"I can't, I - I'm going to fix it," Donghyuck began. "I hurt too many people. Left them." Jeno's smiling face filled his thoughts, and Donghyuck squeezed Renjun's hand. "I have to go back."

"No, you don't."

"Yes," Donghyuck said, leaning their foreheads together. "Yes, I do. You know I do."

Renjun shuddered like a live wire; his arms looped around Donghyuck's neck, pulling him in tightly until their stomachs brushed. "Thought I'd never have to see that place again."

"Who says you're coming?"

"Me. And don't give me that look. Don't give me that - we _promised."_ Renjun pushed him off. "Did you forget already? First, no more apologies. Second, we do this together. You, me, and Mark. Not Lee Donghyuck. Not Mark Lee. _The three of us_. If one of us goes down, all of us do, so if we're gonna do this, it has to be together, or none at all."

"That was... a lot of things you said."

"I have to, if I want to get through that thick skull," Renjun shot back. Then his voice grew small. "I almost lost both of you today. I can't - don't make me go through that again."

Donghyuck's face twisted like he just stepped on glass. "Renjun, I'm--"

"What did I just say?" Renjun said. 

Donghyuck blinked. Then, he smiled tiredly. Scraping a palm over his face, he said, "No more apologizing."

"Exactly," Renjun said. He walked over the bike and shouldered Mark upright, supporting him by his waist. "Now, help me work some magic on this thing? I want to go home."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me on [twt](http://twitter.com/prodjohnmark)


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